


Lets Try This Again

by Temporarily



Category: South Park
Genre: Cute Kids, Family, Fluff, Friendship, Fun With Veal, How is Pussy not a tag?, Humor, Inspired By, More like Super Gay Friends but whatever, Pre-Relationship, Stan Hasn't Given Up On Being A Vegetarian, pussy, s6e05, super best friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-18
Updated: 2019-10-18
Packaged: 2020-12-22 10:49:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21075116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Temporarily/pseuds/Temporarily
Summary: Stan wants to go vegetarian and this time, he's determined that no weird vagina-sore disease will get in his way.Kyle worries. Sharon is a proud mom. Randy is Randy.





	Lets Try This Again

"Alright Stan, would you please come up and give your presentation to the class?" Mrs. Nelson smiled amicably from her desk as Stan Marsh stood and faced his peers. All morning long her charming—if temporary, although who knew when Mr. Garrison would be back? —class of children had been giving presentations on current events, and she was pleasantly surprised by the maturity they were handling this assignment with. (She suspected that more than half of the kids had gone to one of the Principals for suggestions on what to talk about instead of coming up with their own ideas, but she wouldn’t grade them down for that.)

Stan cleared his throat and placed the shoebox he was holding on the floor, clutching a yardstick. "For my presentation, I will need two volunteers. There will be candy involved." Mrs. Nelson made a little note on her grading sheet: An attention-grabbing statement that immediately hooked the class, good work. Stan might get a four instead of a three next time if he actually told everyone what he was going to be talking about. 

"OHMYGAWD ME! MEMEME STAN, PICK ME!"

"Cartman."

"Alright!"

"And Kenny?"

"Mmph!" A couple of the students grumbled about Stan's clear bias towards his friends when it came to distributing candy. 

"Okay. Now Cartman, stand in the shoebox." The brunette stared at the tiny cardboard box that was built to fit the area of two shoes on their sides, not flat soles. 

"Are you fucking kidding me?! It’s way too small!"

"Language Eric," Mrs. Nelson chided.

"_NYEH_. _Sorry_ Mrs. Nelson." 

"It's supposed to be too small," Stan explained. "That’s the point. Now get in the box or you don't get candy."

"Ugh, fine!" Cartman situated himself on tip-toes in the tiny little shoebox, trying to maintain his balance.

"Okay, now pretend that the space you're in is even smaller, so you have to crouch down a little."

"God damn it Stan, this candy better be fucking worth it..." With everything ready, Stan began his presentation in earnest.

"This," he addressed the class, pointing to Cartman. "Is a chicken."

"AYE!!!" The fourth-graders rioted with laughter. 

"This chicken is an egg-laying hen instead of a rooster because big livestock producers like to kill all the boy chickens as soon as they hatch since the expense of raising roosters outweighs any profits they'd make." The laughter tapered off at this blunt, sinister turn. A couple of the kids looked around, confused, wondering if they should laugh anyways since dead baby chicks or not, chickens were a universally comedic subject. "Cartman the chicken is now going to sit here for eighteen months and lay eggs, until the day he is put out of his misery and fed to the masses. Moving on. This," and here Stan gestured to Kenny, "Is a cow." Kenny held two fingers over his head to imitate horns and made a mooing noise, which won back the amusement of the children. "Kenny has lived a pretty nice life for a cow. He was lucky enough to be raised on a family-owned farm. He wasn't separated from his mother before he could walk for the sake of productivity, he lived in a nice green pasture and munched on daisies.

"When the time came for Kenny the cow to be made into a tasty stake, the farmers wanted to put him down humanely. But the laws state that you need to send all your livestock to an authorized slaughterhouse with inspectors. Which is fine in theory, except that Kenny was kept around the slaughterhouse for about four days, getting fattened up. In case you couldn't figure this out, cows poop a lot. This means it's entirely possible Kenny could be up to here—" Stan used the yardstick to measure out two-and-a-half feet. "—in literal shit."

There was a resounding chorus of "Eww!" and other, similar noises used to express disgust. 

"It gets even better. The big companies that have enough money to run these slaughterhouses don't like to waste _anything_, not even animal waste. And cow dung is basically digested vegetation with valuable nutrients in it. Hey, look! When you add a little bit of corn," Stan handed Cartman a packet of smarties. "You get chicken feed!"

"EWWWWWW!"

"Aw, fuck! You got stupid-ass smarties? These things suck! I thought I was gonna get chocolate or something!"

"Keep crouching Cartman, chickens don't talk back. But speaking of chickens, they poop too!" Stan took out another smarties packet, and the whole class groaned with pre-emptive nausea. "Some brands get away with only adding 30% grain to the feathers, feces, and general waste chickens produce when they make cattle feed. The very same feed that Kenny the cow is now munching on as he stands in a lake of shit." 

_ "EWWWWWWWW!!!"  _

"Dude, that is so sick," muttered Kyle, starting to look nearly as green as his hat. Stan passed the smarties to Kenny. He smiled, ground up the packet a little, opened one end, breathed in, and blew a sugary smoke ring before he put them in his pocket to share with Karen later.

"And that's just some of the perfectly legal practices brought to you by factory farms! Thank you." Stan walked back to his seat. Mrs. Nelson clapped for him. Hers was the only applause.

"An excellent demonstration of the livestock industry Stan! Now, who wants to go next?"

Dinner at the Marsh residence was always an awkward affair at best, tense when things weren't at their best, and occasionally downright explosive. After half an hour of pushing his food around, Stan put his plate aside. One might take care to note that Stan had done something practically unheard of for a ten-year-old boy: He'd eaten all his vegetables, without complaint, and he hadn't touched his chicken.

"I'm finished. Can I leave now?"

"Finish your chicken first Stan, your mother did a really good job tonight." Sharon rolled her eyes and sighed. Complimenting her cooking was not going to make her any less mad at her spouse for his most recent transgression, whatever it may be.

Stan prodded at the meat a little bit more, imagining hundreds upon hundreds of stacks of wire mesh cadges, decay and disease, and blood-slick tile floors. He made up his mind: Might as well tell them now.

"Dad, I wanna be a vegetarian." Randy's fork clattered against the plate. There was a profound silence. Shelly looked one hundred and ten percent done with her family's drama. 

"...A what?"

"A vegetarian. I actually want to work my way up to being vegan one day, but I'm not ready to give up cheese just yet."

"...Stanley, you do realize the Whole Foods is gone now, right?"

"Yeah. So?" 

"God damn it," Randy cursed under his breath. "Why couldn't he just be gay instead?"

"Randy!" Sharon hissed. 

"Sorry Sharon! Stan, look. You know I'm trying to be a great PC dad about this and everything, but I'm worried that being vegetarian could be bad for your health!"

"...You're talking about how last time I stopped eating meat I broke out in vagina-sores."

"Yes Stan, I am referring to the fact that you started turning into a _metaphorical pussy_."

"Literal Randy, not metaphorical." 

"Yes, a _literal pussy._ Thank you, Sharon."

"I'm leaving!" Shelly announced, grabbing her dishes with every intent of retreating up to her room and blasting her music at full volume. (Anything but Lorde.) Talking about her little brother's weird adventures, particularly the ones involving female sex organs (and the fact that there was _more than one of these _was terrifying in and of itself), was the point where she was officially out. 

"I actually figured out the cause of that." Stan pulled out his phone and showed his parents an image of a miserable-looking pig covered with vaginas. "There was this other farmer who sent his pigs to that redneck's slaughter-house, and all his hogs broke out in the same vagina-sores disease a week later. My theory is that it only affected pigs and humans, but cows can be carriers. It must have spread through that barn because of the gross living conditions and infected one of the veal, who gave it to me."

"So... it wasn't because you stopped eating meat?"

"No, dad. Being vegetarian does not turn you into a literal pussy. I talked to the doctor at the school clinic."

"You scheduled your own appointment?" Sharon asked, surprised.

"Yeah, after school last Tuesday. She spewed a bunch of stupid bullshit about how meat wasn't bad for you, its sugar you have to look out for, which depending on some studies is also true? It definitely isn’t _good _for you if it’s a whole lot of processed sugar, but I’m not going to worry about that right now. I've done a lot of research on this and I want to try it. Please?" Randy looked over to his spouse.

"Sharon?"

"What?! Now my opinion suddenly matters?" she snapped. 

"Sharon please, this is very important to Stan." 

Sharon sighed deeply. "Okay, Stan. If you give me some vegetarian recipes, I'll see what I can do."

"You don't need any special recipes mom, you should just buy more fruits and vegetables, and you only have to cook three portions of meat now." Sharon raised her head from where she had been resting it in her hand in irritation and boredom. 

"That sounds... surprisingly easy. And healthy."

"It is."

"Alright Stanley, we'll work on giving you a vegetarian diet."

"Thanks Mom!" Stan said with a grin. That had gone much smoother than he'd expected. 

Then Randy Marsh coughed and, once he had everyone's attention declared,  "And I want you to know Stan, that I know vegetarianism isn't a choice. It’s part of who you are, and I'm proud of you for accepting this part of yourself." Stan stared at his father, astounded at his own ability to be repeatedly surprised by just how _stupid _Randy could be. His mother buried her face in her hands.

"Um, actually Dad? Vegetarianism is the exact opposite of that. I'm making a decision to change my life because I feel morally obligated not to encourage people to kill chickens and pigs and cows."

"Oh. So... it's not an identity thing?"

"No Dad."

"Well in that case: No Stan, you're not going to be a pussy vegetarian! Now finish your damn chicken."

Sharon Marsh washed the dishes wrapped in the silence of a patched and fraying soul with layers of bitterness that had accumulated, congealed, and crusted over in the past decade. She felt a presence behind her. Stan stepped forward, and he started moving clean dishes to the drying rack. Sharon’s scowl lessened. Even if he was obviously trying to get on her good side, she couldn't stay mad at her little boy. 

"…I'm sorry Stanley. Your Father is stubborn and stupid sometimes, and there's nothing any of us can do about it."

"I know Mom. I'll start researching ways the livestock industry is harming marginalized communities. If it becomes a PC issue, he'll _have_ to let me stop eating meat." Sharon smiled at her boy, peeled off a soapy rubber glove and ruffled his hair. How was he growing up so smart? 

"Mom, can I pack my own lunch tomorrow?" Extremely smart and dedicated when he was passionate about something. With the spike of pride, Sharon felt the urge to sweep him up into a hug, but she suppressed it for now. 

"Of course, sweetie. I'll leave some extra salad stuff in the fridge." 

The boys stared at Stan's lunch as if he'd casually dropped the football—the kind with all the US nuclear codes in it, not an actual football—on the table. 

"Stan," Cartman said, narrowing his eyes in an accusing manner. "Why, the fuck, are you eating _rabbit food?_" Stan shrugged, looking distinctly uncomfortable. 

"My Mom's on a health kick."

"Just get school lunch," Kyle suggested.

"She's on a health kick because she thinks the school lunch is toxic." Which they all knew, it kind of was. Kenny sighed, staring down at his own lumpy potatoes and gelatinous gravy.

"I miss Chef. He always made sure we got good food." Everyone agreed with him, and with this reminder of their dead friend and mentor—who had been quite possibly the only adult in South Park with even a lick of common sense—they were depressed for the rest of lunch. 

"And that is how some factory farms are getting away with spraying pig shit in the faces of low-income communities, spreading disease and killing off whole families." It was a _little bit_ of an exaggeration, but it worked. Randy groaned and rubbed his temples, trying to massage away an oncoming headache.

"So, this actually is a PC issue?"

"Yeah. You could argue that any environmental issue is a PC issue since third world countries will be the first to feel the effects of global warming when we're the ones mostly responsible for it, but... yeah." 

"Arrrrrgh... Fine Stan. You can be a pussy vegetarian if it makes you feel better."

_ "Yes!" _

To: Kyle

u know that feeling u get when u win an argument against ur parents?

To: Stan

No. My Mom never loses arguments, and my Dad's too egotistical to know when he's wrong.

To: Kyle

well I just did. 😎

To: Stan

Congrats dude. 😊 🎉

Did you convince your mom to drop the whole health thing?

To: Kyle

uh, actually, no. it was dad.

To: Stan

What were you arguing about?

To: Kyle

just sm dumb stuff. dude, u played that new Terrance and Phillip game yet? 

To: Stan

Holy shit dude YES!!!

Kyle sat at his desk, contemplating the tip of his perfectly sharpened writing instrument. Stan was trying to hide something from him. It was easy to tell, no one gets away with hiding things from their Super Best Friend for long. Yes indeed, Stan had a secret...

Which meant this was the perfect opportunity to play Spy. 

Within the secure confines of his lair, Agent Brofloski flipped over the thin manila folder containing his next assignment. Within it was all the information he would need, printed in standard red crayon. Subject's Name: Stan Marsh. Age: Ten. Subject has proven to be a reliable ally and informant, but recent evidence suggests that he may be compromised. Mission: Use covert surveillance to assess the situation, then report back to HQ. Use intelligence gathered to determine procedure from there. 

Kyle closed the file with a smile, unlatched his spy kit, and pulled out the binoculars. 

When Stan opened the door to his bedroom after dinner a certain superspy was waiting for him, sitting on the bed with a pre-made scowl and lecture at the ready.

“Holy shit dude!” Stan quickly shut and locked the door, leaning on the handle and resisting the urge to clutch his pounding heart. “You scared the crap out of me!”

“Stan, we need to talk.”

“What are you doing in my room?!” 

“What are you doing avoiding meat?!” Stan gaped at him for a moment.

“Were you SPYING on me?!?”

“Duh. I have a sweet spy kit and a suspicious friend, who else was supposed to be my target for tonight’s mission?”

“That’s—! …Okay, that’s a good point. You followed the privacy code?”

“What kind of creep do you think I am!? Of course I did: No bathrooms, no bedrooms.”

“Okay, good.”

“Unfortunately for you, that doesn’t include the dining room.” Stan groaned, pinching the space between his eyebrows.

“Kyle, please. Just stop.”

“No Stan, I have a right to be concerned!” The redhead sprung up from the bed and approached, fists clenched and eyebrows knitted. “The last time you went vegetarian you started sprouting vaginas all over your—_everywhere!_”

“That’s not going to happen, dude, I've checked with a doctor on this! Trust me, I love animals, but I do NOT love them enough to willingly get sick! _Vegetarianism does not cause vagina sores!_” Kyle narrowed his eyes skeptically. 

“Are you sure?” Stan spread his arms in a kind of ‘See for yourself,’ gesture. 

“It’s been a day and a half dude, there aren't any sores, I swear.” 

“Take off your shirt.”

“DUDE!!!”

“I’m just going to check your back, you couldn’t see any if they were there!”

“Pretty sure I’d be able to feel it,” Stan mumbled.

“_EW,_ STANLEY!!!”

“Alright shut up I’ll do it!” Stan stripped off his shirt and turned, arms crossed, scowling with irritation. “There, see? Nothing!” He jumped and yelped as he felt something _freezing_ come into contact with his back. “Jesus Christ!!!”

“Hold _still_.” Stan looked over his shoulder to see Kyle with a stethoscope and a look of intense concentration. 

“Dude, where did that come from?” Kyle raised an eyebrow.

“Epic spy kit Stan. I’ve got everything in there.” Stan turned back around with a huff and gave into his best friend’s intrusive prodding. He shivered and absently thought that for no one else would he tolerate this. No one but Kyle could convince him into this ridiculous situation, where he was shirtless in his room getting checked by someone without the least bit of medical training for vagina sores. It was stupid. They were stupid. Kyle was stupid because Stan knew that he was _fine. _

But then Kyle warmed up the stethoscope by rubbing it between his palms, and Stan thought that he was a little bit less stupid. 

“No abnormal epidermal discoloration,” the redhead murmured, fingers smoothing over a solitary freckle on Stan’s shoulder blade. Stan squirmed impatiently and resisted the urge to demand that Kyle speak English instead of medical jargon. “No bumps or lesions either. Nothing feels funny?” he asked, aggressively poking Stan’s spinal column. 

“_No!_” the patient snapped. Kyle tucked away his stethoscope and passed back his friend’s shirt. 

“Okay, checkup’s over. You’re clear.” Stan shrugged his shirt back on, then hesitantly suggested, 

“…We could keep playing if you want.”

“As long as I don’t have to be your gynecologist.” 

He blinked in confusion. “What?” 

Kyle smirked, and replied, “Never mind, that was a bad joke. What do you want to play?” They played Doctor, wherein Stan was a cancer patient and Kyle was the practitioner helping him fight for his life. They raided the medicine cabinet, gave Stan a bald cap, and used a pen-light laser pointer for radiation therapy. It was crass, offensive, and they couldn’t stop giggling the entire time.

“Dude, cancer’s not funny!"

“Yes it is, you’re laughing right now shitbag!”

“That’s _Doctor_ Shitbag to you, Mr. Marsh!” Despite the astounding scientific inaccuracy of their methods, they had fun dramatizing the ensuing battle, until one Stan Marsh passed away in the middle of the night, a victim of satire. 

Kyle slept beside him. The excuse given was pathological guilt over being unable to save him and leaving his fictional jobless wife and kids to fend for themselves in a cruel, unforgiving world. But in reality, the bed was warm and comfortable, his best friend was safe and healthy, and he wasn’t thinking about school tomorrow or all the animals dying in the world or what the next South Park disaster would be. There was just the two inches of space between them and Stan’s breathing. 

His last thought was something about making more of an effort to stick to kosher like his Mom wanted if Stan was going vegetarian. They did everything together. Maybe they’d do this too. 

Then he was asleep. 

**Author's Note:**

> *squints at s23 e4* Okay South Park. I see you.  
The most recent vegetarian episode inspired me to go back through my docs and pull this old story out. The Style at the end is completely out of left field but also, I couldn't resist.   
Yes, I did write this right after they showed us What The Health in school for the first time.


End file.
